


But I Want To Dance With You.

by strawberrymango



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fluff, mild spoilers maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 17:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20343919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrymango/pseuds/strawberrymango
Summary: Edelgard has a huge crush on Dorothea and tries to ask her to be her date to the Garreg Mach Ball.





	But I Want To Dance With You.

“Something is troubling you, Lady Edelgard.”

Hubert’s voice startles her from her thoughts. Thoughts that have, indeed, been troubling her. For days, in fact. Ever since her brain decided to inconveniently conceive them during one of Manuela’s seminars earlier that week. Thoughts that fill her stomach with butterflies and open the door for her mind to wander aimlessly, distracting her from matters that are arguably _way_ more pressing and urgent.

Still, she finds it impossible to close those doors, to reign in her thoughts and keep them in check. To put a lid on them and file them away until a later date. Preferably forever.

“Nothing of substance, Hubert. Do not worry yourself.” She hadn’t even noticed him enter the library, Edelgard realises with a frown. Had she really been that lost?

“It can hardly be _nothing_ if it seems to be causing you so much distress, Lady Edelgard.”

Distress isn’t the right word, she thinks. It’s just a torrent of endless questions that, no matter how hard she tries to think of the solutions to, no matter how hard she studies, she cannot seem to fathom the answer. At least not without the solution ending in an unmitigated disaster, or in inevitable humiliation. Discomfort is a better word. Discomfort definitely describes the tumultuous flips her chest performs every time she indulges and caves and allows her thoughts to take over.

“Even if I were to tell you, Hubert. I’m not sure this is a matter you would be able to provide with much insight, nor is it something I would even _want_ to waste your time discussing.”

“Is that so?” Hubert asks with an accusatory eyebrow raised. Edelgard knows he’ll find out sooner or later because he always manages to unearth the truth somehow. Maybe it would be better for her to simply wait until he did find out, that way, at the very least, she wouldn’t have to endure the embarrassment of saying it out loud. “Then maybe this is a matter that requires outside assistance. Should I inquire as to the whereabouts of Princess Petra, or Dorothea, perhaps?”

Edelgard knows that her face is turning red, because she can_ feel_ blood burning beneath the skin of her cheeks, can feel her ears practically glowing. She’s also certain that Hubert notices, because he’s always been too astute for his own good, and his lips quirk in to something of a knowing smile.

“N-No,” she manages and turns her attention back to the book she had been trying to read before this whole conversation had started, before she’d fallen to overthinking. “That won’t be necessary.” She closes her book, content in the knowledge that it’s definitely _unreadable_ at this point, and tries to steel her expression. Attempts to bring the temperature in her face back down to a level that won’t make her look like a blushing mess, before facing her friend. “I’m going to turn in for the night,” she says, “I have an examination tomorrow morning.”

“As you wish, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert says with a slight bow of his head and Edelgard can already tell she’s given him more than enough information to draw multiple conclusions from. Possibly _too _much, though she’s sure he’d never stoop so low as to tease her.

By the time she gets back to her room, Edelgard knows she won’t get much sleep, though she supposes it’s at least a slight bit more preferable reasoning to be occupied by thought, than to lose sleep to her recurring nightmares. As soon as she’s blown out the candles, and allowed her head to hit the pillow, the questions come charging at her like a battalion.

But there’s one that forces its way to the forefront, one that leads the charge and screams and yells at her to _do something_. And she knows, knows that it’s not that big of a question, not that big of a deal and that there are things she _should_ be worrying about, plans to draft and preparations to complete. But still, to her, it’s the world, especially with the date looming ever closer and the potential threat of dozens of others beating her to the conclusion.

_How do I ask Dorothea to be my date to the Garreg Mach Ball?_

** ** **

“Your highness,” Petra says, lowering her sword, “You are not performing at your best. Are you sure you would like to continue sparring? Maybe you should be taking some time to rest.”

“I am perfectly fine, Petra,” Edelgard reassures her. In all honesty, she’s reassuring herself more than anyone else. But it really is rather difficult to hold her sword and swing it correctly and spar with heart, when Dorothea is also using this time to occupy the training grounds, deciding that today is as good a day as any to take up archery. Bernadetta is teaching her, with something akin to determination upon her features, and Dorothea is smiling and laughing musically under her guidance, as though singing an improvised song.

“I insist, Lady Edelgard, that we must be taking a break. Let us go and get something to eat. Perhaps that will bring back your strength.”

Edelgard wants to say yes, to leave the training ground and get as far away from Dorothea’s distracting smile and even more distracting archery form as she can possibly manage. But she’s the heir to the Adrestian Empire, and she’s aware that she can’t let such things bother her, not if she wants to be the leader Fódlan requires.

So that is why she shakes her head and drags her focus from where Bernadetta’s hands are ghosting over Dorothea’s as she repositions her grip on the bow, and instead, musters up all of the focus she can on the sword that’s weighty and heavy in her own.

“Truly, Petra, there’s nothing to worry about. Let us continue, please.”

Petra obliges, though Edelgard can tell she’s hesitant to fight her when she’s clearly not on top form. It’s common knowledge that between them that Petra excels with the blade where Edelgard favours her axe, and Petra knows that Edelgard usually puts up a better show, a better fight than the one she’s currently giving.

But when Edelgard makes a point of staring her down, unrelenting in her decision to keep sparring, Petra loosens her shoulders and assumes her fighting stance.

_Thank the Goddess that Hubert is not here,_ Edelgard thinks as she brings her training sword down against Petra’s with a metal _clang_. _He’d figure it out in an instant._

For what feels like an hour longer, Edelgard manages to keep the illusion of focus tangible enough for Petra to continue sparring in good conscience. It’s when Edelgard’s grip loosens on the blade and it clatters to the floor at the same time that Dorothea comes to watch and sings a sweet and encouraging _‘Go on Edie!’ _ That Petra declares that enough training has transpired for one day, and marches all four of them to the dining hall.

Edelgard almost finds it hard to form coherent thought when Dorothea compliments her on their walk across the monastery.

“Your sword technique has improved so much, Edie,” she says with a genuine smile and tucks a long brown curl behind her ear and Edelgard notices that she’s wearing a new pair of earrings; small rings of gold encircling dazzling red stones and they’re beautiful. “Is there a weapon you _can’t_ master?”

“Of course,” Edelgard says with a blush threatening to expose itself upon her cheeks. Too much time has passed since leaving the training grounds for her to blame it on sparring and exertion, she can’t let it best her. “I am no good at magic, after all.”

“Oh nonsense,” Dorothea chuckles, “I bet you could master that too in no time. Maybe I can give you a head start and teach you some spells?”

“That would be… most—would be very beneficial. Thank you, Dorothea,” Edelgard manages to choke out, hoping that it sounds as authoritative and resolute as she intends, hoping that Dorothea doesn’t see right through her obvious, glaring, embarrassing crush on her.

Dorothea laughs again and loops their arms together so that all four of them are walking in a linked line to the dining hall, and Edelgard tries not to think too much about the warmth of Dorothea that’s pressed against her left side or the smell of her floral perfume that wafts beautifully in Edelgard’s direction with every bounce of her head.

** ** **

“Are you taking anyone to the Garreg Mach Ball, Caspar?” Dorothea’s taken to asking everybody around the dinner table of their plans for that night, and Edelgard thinks she might just devote herself to the teachings of Seiros if the Goddess would be willing to grant her transportation to another astral plane right about now. Anything to get her away from this conversation.

“Of course I am!” He shouts around a mouthful of food. Some flies across the table and lands dangerously close to Petra’s plate.

“Table manners, Caspar,” Linhardt yawns and nudges him lazily with an elbow. “Also he’s lying, he’s not taking anybody.”

“How do you know?”

“Because if you had asked somebody by now, or if somebody had asked you, I wouldn’t have heard the last of it.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I just haven’t asked them yet,” he pouts and shovels more food in to his mouth. Edelgard doesn’t miss the beginnings of a blush decorate the tips of his ears, and she can only sympathise with him silently from across the dinner table.

“What about you, Edie?”

Edelgard has tried preparing herself for this question ever since Dorothea commenced with this awful interrogation, grilling Ferdinand about which poor soul he’d managed to convince to dance with him after he’d joined them all at the table with a larger smile than usual. It hadn’t taken very long for that smile to falter, but he’d held strong – they were none the wiser.

“Surely there must be people throwing themselves at your feet.”

Edelgard frowns. Dorothea couldn’t be farther from the truth; she hasn’t received a single invitation. Which is all the more distressing. It meant that if she didn’t ask _someone,_ she’d go alone, and while she knew that shouldn’t bother her, she can’t help but think of her parents and their meeting at the Goddess Tower and how utterly romantic it had all been. A small part of her wants something of that nature for herself, a new story all of her own.

“Hubert’s probably threatened to eat the firstborn of whoever dares ask her,” Caspar says and Edelgard hates that even more. Because if by some twist of fate, her friend has stopped _Dorothea_ from asking her to the ball under the assumption that such frivolities should be avoided, then she’ll have his head the second she becomes Emperor. She makes a note to find him at some point and press him on the issue, no matter how vehemently she had wanted to avoid the topic altogether.

“No,” is what Edelgard says, “I am going alone, it would seem.”

“See, told you so,” Caspar leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head. “He’s cornered each and every one of them and cursed their bloodline.”

“That is rather a gross exaggeration,” Ferdinand says and pushes his cutlery to the side. “I’m sure it’s just because Lady Edelgard is so unapproachable.”

She has to remind herself that Ferdinand’s opinion means nothing to her before she rolls her eyes. But his words do leave her with yet another pressing question. Was she really _that_ unapproachable? She tries not to look at Dorothea_ too_ obviously to gauge her reaction to such a statement, but she doesn’t have to try for long because Dorothea’s already jumping to her defence.

“Oh I don’t think so, _Ferdie. _I think Edie’s rather cute. Especially when she’s studying. Anybody would be lucky to dance with such a beauty.”

Edelgard swears that time stops for a second, because her heart leaps in to her throat once it resumes and she almost chokes on the last of her peach sorbet. Luckily, she manages to avoid such humiliation by busying herself with the remainder of her water. _Dorothea watches her study,_ she balks, _thinks her concentrated glower is cute. _Her thoughts bounce around, erratic and chaotic, but mostly, all she can keep repeating inside her head is, _but I want to dance with you._

“And what of you, Dorothea? Surely the amount of suitors vying for your affections greatly eclipses any other around this table.”

She hopes that this derails the conversation some, redirects the attention away from her furious blush and lack of composure and puts up a front of unaffected indifference.

“That’s rather presumptuous, no?” Ferdinand asks with a pinch to his brow and a pout that makes him look more like a spoiled child than the Prime Minister’s notoriously noble son. Edelgard supposes there isn’t really much of a difference separating the two.

“Not really,” Linhardt says. “Or do you have past experience at a renowned opera company and a horde of adoring fans that you’re withholding from us, Ferdinand?”

Ferdinand splutters, and as what usually happens around the dinner table when all of the Black Eagles manage to eat together, they spend the remainder of their time jesting at his expense. But Edelgard doesn’t miss the twinkle in Dorothea’s eye, nor does she miss the sweet smiles under darkened lashes and rosy cheeks that she sends her.

“Hm, no”, she says eventually when the subject is broached again, looking directly at Edelgard. “There’s only one person I want to go to the ball with, and they still haven’t asked me yet.”

Edelgard tries not to look defeated and solemn, but it’s hard to keep the slump out her shoulders and the pit out of her stomach upon hearing Dorothea’s words. _There’s somebody else she’s interested in,_ she thinks, _of course there is._

** ** **

“Hubert, may I speak with you?” Edelgard finds Hubert in the library with one week remaining until the Garreg Mach Ball. She still hasn’t worked up the courage to approach the subject with Dorothea, and after Caspar’s dig at Hubert’s overbearing, protective nature, she cannot dismiss the possibility that he _is_ meddling somehow.

“Of course, Lady Edelgard,” he puts away a book on lethal poisons and gives her his full attention. Luckily, the library is empty at this time of night – not even Linhardt, with the strangest sleeping schedule Edelgard has ever known, is occupying one of the desks, so she doesn’t feel as embarrassed to finally just ask him.

“Are you deterring my invitations to the Garreg Mach Ball?”

Hubert sits himself down on one of the tables so that his height matches Edelgard’s own and sends her one of those unreadable smiles. She can’t quite tell if he’s scheming, amused or uncomfortable. She hopes it’s the latter. It's probably an odd concoction of all three.

“Lady Edelgard,” he begins. “You know of course, that I act only with your best interests in mind.”

“Hubert,” she warns, “please tell me you haven’t been.”

“I am afraid I cannot feign complete innocence.”

She wants to storm off like a troubled brat, to make Hubert feel bad for his meddling for once, but not only does she know for _certain_ that he will not care, he’s already interrupting her thoughts.

“I must confess, Lady Edelgard, that I only reject advances from those I am positive that you yourself would dismiss.”

“You cannot know my heart and mind entirely, Hubert.”

He’s always been like this, one step ahead with his interfering, always thinking he knows the inner workings of Edelgard’s mind better than herself. Most of the time, it saves her immense trouble and worry, a lot of the time she doesn’t even realise he’s meddled until it’s too late and somebody's approaching her with new plans or expressing gratitude for things she's neither promised nor given. Now, she can’t help but curse it, feel the beginnings of anger boil inside her stomach.

“Forgive me if I am wrong, but there is only one person you wish to attend the Garreg Mach Ball with, no?”

“_Hubert.”_

“I simply prevented your time from being wasted with the countless other offers you have no interest in.”

Edelgard wants more than anything to tell him he’s wrong, and that he’s breached a certain level of her privacy, but when she thinks of those who she’d have to turn away with awkward and clumsy words, she thinks that maybe, he’s right. Maybe it was for the best that he take care of such things. Her mind was already preoccupied enough with devising ways of approaching Dorothea and asking her without sounding foolish.

“Can’t you just ask her for me?” Edelgard sighs because she knows that Hubert _knows_ and at this point she’s getting desperate. It’s ridiculous, really. She’s to become the Emperor, she’s shaping the future of Fódlan as they speak, carving a new path to a better life for all, and yet she cannot confess to the girl she likes that it would be rather lovely to spend an evening dancing with her.

“I must respectfully decline, Lady Edelgard. That is something that cannot be delegated. I doubt my words will carry the same sentiment you wish to convey to Miss Dorothea.”

“I suppose you are right,” she says with heavy shoulders.

“Although, a word of advice. You may wish to act soon. It is getting rather difficult to stay on top of rejecting the majority of _her_ invitations as well as yours.”

Edelgard panics for a moment, remembering Dorothea’s words from the dinner table almost a week ago: _they still haven’t asked me yet._ Her mind whirrs and burns and tries to work its way around the prospect of Dorothea’s chance of happiness being ruined on account of Edelgard’s ineptitude – the guilt is too much to bare.

“Hubert, you can’t do that to Dorothea! What if there’s somebody _she’s_ waiting for, that’s simply not fair.”

“My apologies,” he says with a respectful bow, “I only strive for your happiness, Lady Edelgard.”

“And it would make me happy if you left Dorothea and her business alone.”

“As you wish.”

But it lights a fire beneath her, makes every breath she takes burn with urgency. _First thing tomorrow morning,_ she thinks. _I’m going to ask her and get this all over with._ Even if she rejects her, even if she’s not the one she’s been waiting for, she needs to take decisive action; like she has so many times commanding the battlefield. This should be a cinch in comparison.

** ** **

First thing tomorrow morning is not an opportune time, Edelgard quickly discovers, because Dorothea is practicing for the White Heron Cup. She bursts out on to the field just outside the lower dorms and stops in her tracks when she notices Manuela and Dorothea moving and flowing and twirling gracefully to the music.

Her heart skips a beat, and her breath catches in her throat and she knows she’s staring but she can’t _stop_, because Dorothea is just beautiful, and her movements are mesmerising and Edelgard just wants to be dancing _with_ her, not watching helplessly from the side-lines.

“Edie!” Dorothea calls and waves at her with a flourish of hand. The music stops at some point, but Edelgard doesn’t notice. Manuela dismisses Dorothea from her dance practice for the day, and she comes bounding over, enveloping Edelgard in a hug that smells of roses. “Did you come to watch me?” she punctuates the question with a suggestive wink and Edelgard suddenly forgets every encouraging word she had recited to herself before sleeping.

“I must confess,” Edelgard clears her throat and says. “I was just passing by. But I couldn’t help but notice how… captivating you were. Did you get much opportunity to dance at Mittlefrank?”

“Hm, sometimes,” Dorothea says, her voice light and musical. “But we spent more time acting, than dancing. It’s nice to try my hand at it though. I’m starving, breakfast?”

Edelgard nods and Dorothea does that thing again where she links their arms together as they walk to the dining hall. Edelgard loves the warmth, especially in these colder months, and she leans instinctively closer.

“I’m certain you’re going to blow everybody away, Dorothea,” she says, because _she_ is, completely and utterly, like a stray piece of parchment in a strong wind.

“Oh I don’t know about that, I heard that Marianne will also be participating and she’s quite the undiscovered beauty.”

“Nobody holds a candle to you, Dorothea. Surely you must know that?”

“Oh you’re too sweet, Edie. But you should stop inflating my ego, compliments from you are rather dangerous for my health.”

Edelgard frowns, “How so?”

“Because your opinion matters the most to me,” she laughs nonchalantly as though she hasn’t just said something so earth shattering, and if Edelgard weren’t being dragged across the monastery on Dorothea’s arm, she might have stopped and combusted there and then. Though, she’s quite proud of how well she keeps herself together, and reminds herself that it’s simply because she’s royalty that Dorothea says such nice things to her, and for no other reason.

“You shouldn’t value my words more than others simply because I am the heir to the Adrestian Empire,” she says.

“Oh of course,” Dorothea smiles. “But that’s not why your compliments mean so much to me.”

“Then in that case, I must echo the sentiment,” Edelgard says with a surge of confidence. “You must also refrain from saying such sweet things to me.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Edie. You’re simply too cute to resist.”

Edelgard’s high neck collar suddenly feels suffocating, the cold doesn’t seem to be affecting her nearly as much, and there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her lips that makes her feel as though she’s learned magic overnight and is floating on air.

“That’s precisely what I mean, Dorothea.”

It doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel fair to either of them, to ruin the nice atmosphere they’ve created with an unnecessary confession, and so Edelgard promises herself that she’ll ask her later. She’ll find Dorothea around the monastery after classes have finished and force it out of her mouth once and for all, even if it kills her.

** ** **

“Bernadetta, do you have a moment?”

Bernadetta peers around the door of her room, squeaks and looks as though she might bolt at any given moment, like a rabbit in the presence of a hunter, but she nods frantically and Edelgard gives her a patient and encouraging smile.

“I was wondering if you’ve seen Dorothea?”

After a breakfast of pleasant conversation and a war of blush adorned compliments, Edelgard concluded that the afternoon was as good a time as any to ask Dorothea to the ball. She’s been trying to look for her all afternoon, has even asked for Hubert’s assistance in locating her. But it’s all to no avail, Dorothea has seemingly disappeared off of the face of the earth as though she’s somehow caught wind of Edelgard’s intentions and fled the academy altogether.

Bernadetta shakes her head and Edelgard sighs and thanks her for her help regardless of having gotten absolutely nowhere. She’s about to give up entirely and take it as a sign that maybe it’s not meant to be, when she spots Sylvain emerging from the dining hall. She’s seen him hold many a conversation with Dorothea over the past few days, even more so than usual, and thinks that _maybe_ he’s her best shot at finding out where she is. He’s not the ideal person to turn to for help, but he’s Edelgard’s last hope, so she packs away all of her reservations and strides over to catch him before he disappears too.

“Hey, Edelgard,” he throws his arms up lazily behind his head as she approaches, and smiles as though he knows all manners of secrets.

“Sylvain,” she greets.

“Something I can do for you, Princess?”

“Actually yes. Have you seen Dorothea? I’ve been looking for her all afternoon.”

“As a matter of fact,” he smiles again, wider, like a cat. “I have.”

“Are you going to tell me where she is, or are we going to dance around until I force it out of you?”

“Are you asking me to the Garreg Mach Ball?” he asks with faux exaggeration, a hand over his heart as though he’s flattered, and then he winks, “If so, I’ll have to politely decline on this occasion, I’m afraid I’m taken.”

“Absolutely not,” Edelgard scowls and thinks it would have been more productive to just continue conducting the search alone. “Forget I even asked, good day, Sylvain.”

“Wait, wait,” he calls after her, “She said something about taking initiative and finally asking someone to be her date. Don’t know who that is, or where she’s gone though, so good luck, I guess.”

_Oh._

Edelgard doesn’t thank Sylvain when she leaves, she doesn’t think of anything other than of the sinking feeling in her stomach and the pang of jealousy she feels on behalf of whomever has captured Dorothea’s attention.

It’s somehow worse than she’d expected – the feeling of rejection, and it hasn’t even come from Dorothea herself. She’s spent all afternoon running around searching for her, finally ready to admit her feelings, only to find out that Dorothea’s already found someone that she likes, that she wants to spend her night dancing with, laughing with, smiling with.

She internally sulks all the way to the library, takes out a book on the history of monarchs that used to interest her but now can’t hold her attention for more than a few minutes at a time, and forces herself to read. Usually, Hubert would appear in times like these, seemingly out of nowhere, but be the comforting presence she would need. Today, he’s oddly absent, and for some reason, it irks Edelgard even further.

Linhardt joins her at one point, and he distracts her with light conversation about his recent area of research, but after a few minutes, his company becomes obsolete when he takes out a pillow and naps with his head resting atop the table and his chatter is replaced with light snoring.

A few hours melt away, and Edelgard knows it’s inching towards dinner time when she starts to feel the cold breeze through the floorboards. But she doesn’t feel hungry. Not if it means she has to sit at the dinner table and hear about Dorothea’s date. Linhardt seems to feel it within his bones, and wakes up to trudge his way down to the dining hall, but not without asking her to join him first.

“I’ll be down soon,” she lies, and Linhardt doesn’t argue.

She almost falls asleep herself, hunched over her book, staring at the words, trying to make them interesting enough to override her tumultuous thoughts. _I have to get over this quickly_, she thinks, _there’s no time to waste sulking, not when there’s so much to do._

But it’s _hard_ because it’s _Dorothea_, and she likes her so much, likes her smile, and her company, and her stories and her kindness, and her body feels weighted and glum and there’s nothing she can do about it, not if she wants to continue their friendship. Because she values it so greatly – there’s nobody quite like Dorothea and she can’t lose her over something so foolish as her own feelings.

“Edie! There you are,” Edelgard flinches at the sound of Dorothea’s voice that’s coming from the library’s doorway. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

_Of course, to tell me all about this mysterious date to the ball._

“Hello, Dorothea,” she closes her book and turns around to look at her, insistent on maintaining a neutral façade. The last thing she wants is for Dorothea to catch on to her feelings _now._ Not after she’s already found her happiness.

Dorothea looks out of breath, her hair is windswept and her cheeks have turned pink under the dropping temperature and even now she still looks beautiful – she always does. Edelgard fights the want to reach out and tuck her curls back in to place behind her ear.

“What are you doing up here? Linhardt said you skipped dinner.”

“Oh, just studying for an exam coming up soon.” It’s not a lie, she does have another examination, but it’s not for another two weeks at least.

“Nothing important then,” Dorothea smiles, and reaches out a hand. “Come with me, I want to talk to you about something.”

Edelgard wants desperately to refuse, to make up an excuse so she doesn’t have to subject herself to the pain she _knows_ is coming, but when she looks at Dorothea’s face, bright and earnest, happy and sparkling, she simply cannot.

She closes her book and slips her gloved hand in to Dorothea’s, following her out of the library and down the stairs and hallways and then she realises that she hasn’t a clue where they’re headed.

“Dorothea, where exactly are we going?”

“It’s a secret,” she grins, putting a finger to her lips in a _hushing_ motion. Edelgard’s heart beats treacherously fast in her chest.

When Edelgard realises that they’re ascending the steps to the top of the Goddess Tower, she falters for a moment, and can only look at Dorothea’s back as she climbs in front of her, never letting go of her hand. When they reach the top step, they’re both slightly out of breath, but Dorothea turns and then steps back and Edelgard’s breath catches in a small gasp when she sees what’s waiting there.

A small table and chairs, decorated with white lace cloth stand near the balcony, the view overlooking the monastery as the winter darkness consumes the sunset. There’s a teapot sending billows of steam out of its spout, and Edelgard can already smell that it’s her favourite: bergamot. The flickering of multiple candles illuminate plates of sweets and confectionery, obviously pilfered from the dining hall’s dessert table. It looks so sweet, so romantic and lovely and none of it makes any sense.

“Well, what do you think, Edie?” Dorothea looks quite nervous all of a sudden and Edelgard is lost for words.

“I—what is all this?” she asks, completely unable to provide any words that require, real, actual thought.

“It’s for you! Well, for us, to have some tea. I told you there was something I wanted to talk to you about, and I wanted it to be perfect, so I got Hubie to help me set it all up. You know, it’s surprisingly easy to get him to do _anything_ so long as you mention that it benefits _you_ in some way,” she chuckles and Edelgard still can’t breathe. “Well come on, sit down! I hope the tea hasn’t gotten cold. I spent an awful long time searching for you, you know.”

Edelgard pulls out one of the chairs and hopes this isn’t some kind of elaborate joke, or embarrassing misunderstanding that’s going to leave her scarred for life and un-romanceable for eternity. Dorothea takes the seat next to her and pours her a cup of tea, and it’s not until this moment that Edelgard realises how long she’s gone without food, and just how hungry she is.

Dorothea doesn’t say anything out of the ordinary for a while – by all standards, it’s a pretty normal tea party. She watches Edelgard eat one of the strawberry-iced baked treats with a satisfied smile, sips her tea in happy, companionable silence, until she finally clears her throat and says “So do you remember, last week at dinner, when we were all talking about the ball?”

Edelgard nods solemnly, it was quite hard to forget.

“Well, do you remember when I said that I didn’t have a date, because I was waiting for the right person to ask me?”

_Of course, here it comes,_ Edelgard thinks, _she’s going to tell me the elaborate story of how she’s confessed to the person she likes and I have to pretend to be happy for her._

“Yes,” Edelgard says, voice thick and unwilling for the conversation to continue any further, wishing she could run back down the stairs and throw herself under her bed covers until graduation.

“Well, I decided that I was going to take matters in to my own hands,” she says. “Because it didn’t look as though they were going to ask me, and I wanted so badly to dance with them, because I like them so much,” she pouts, but there’s a hint of mirth to it, as though she’s reminiscing upon fond memories, and it’s almost cruel how unfair it all is.

“I’m happy for you,” Edelgard manages to say quietly around her teacup; she can’t look at Dorothea any longer. The tea seems to taste a tad bitterer than it had a few minutes ago.

“Oh, really? But I still haven’t asked them yet. You see, they’re extremely intelligent, beautiful, and ambitious, but they’re also rather dense and don’t seem to receive hints well.”

“Yes, I suppose they’d have to be rather foolish to ignore clues from you, Dorothea.”

“Oh dear, I’m not sure you’re allowed to say that,” Dorothea’s smile widens and she begins to chuckle and all Edelgard can do is turn the corners of her lips downwards in a disappointed frown. “You see,” she whispers, “they’re the future heir to the Adrestian Empire, and I’m pretty sure Hubie might poison you in your sleep if you speak ill of them.”

Dorothea waits for Edelgard to catch on, waits for her still form to process the information that’s just been laid out upon the table in front of her and digest it entirely. When she does, her head snaps around and a blush, furious and red creeps up from her neck and stains her cheeks.

“Pardon?”

Dorothea laughs again and covers Edelgard’s free hand that’s resting on the table, “I’m not used to this, you know? Confessing. I’m usually the one being confessed _to._”

Edelgard doesn’t know if she wants the ground to open up and swallow her, or if she wants to tentatively take the next steps in to this unfamiliar territory to see what might happen next, but regardless, she suddenly feels ten times lighter, like she had done earlier that morning on her way to breakfast.

“You’re… you’re asking _me_ to the ball?” Edelgard tries.

“Yes, Edie.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite, yes.”

“_You_ want to dance with_ me_?”

“Yes,” she says again, green eyes alight and searching. “The question is, do _you_ want to dance with _me?_” she turns her own words back at her.

“Of course I do,” Edelgard says and lowers her head and voice to a whisper, “I—I really like you Dorothea.” It feels good to finally say it, to relieve the words that have weighed her down and occupied her thoughts for so long. To finally air them out and let the wind take them.

“Oh thank the Goddess,” Dorothea leans in and rests her head upon Edelgard’s shoulder, linking their arms once more. “Because I like you a whole lot too.”

The smile she’s smiling hurts; it’s one of those smiles that stretches across her face and is impossible to curb, no matter how much she tries to suppress it. It feels impossible, that Dorothea likes her back. That Dorothea wants to dance with her, that Dorothea feels the same way that she does, all in this timeline.

“Edie?”

Edelgard hums, unwilling to move her head that she’s settled atop Dorothea’s, content, finally.

“May I kiss you?”

Edelgard think magic might exist within her yet, because she swears a fire spell is about to consume her entire body when she hears the request. She moves her head back and allows Dorothea to shift and settle herself so they’re face-to-face. When Edelgard barely nods in affirmation, Dorothea’s hand, soft and cold in the night air, comes up to cup her cheek and draw their lips together in a sweet kiss.

She tastes like a beautiful blend of bergamot and peach, and Edelgard thinks it’s her new favourite flavour.


End file.
